But this visit to the University city was productive of the most intense chagrin in other ways to Charles Raynor; of the keenest humiliation. "Only a short while ago, I was one of _them_, with the world all before me to hold my head up in!" he kept telling himself, as he watched the undergraduates passing in the street, holding aloof from them, for he had not the courage to show his face. If by unavoidable chance he encountered one or two, he drew away as quickly as he could, after exchanging a few uncomfortable sentences. Whilst they, knowing his changed circumstances, his blighted prospects, made no effort to detain him; and if their manner displayed a certain restraint, springing from innate pity, or delicacy of feeling, Charles put it down to a very different cause, and felt all the deeper mortification. As he left Oxford by an early morning train on his way home, his thoughts were busy with what had passed. For one thing, he found that his days of torment at Eagles' Nest, when he went about in fear of writs and arrest, had been without foundation. With the exception of Mr. Huddles--and that was much later--not a single creditor, as all assured him, had followed him there: neither had any of them written to him, excepting the one whose letter had by misadventure fallen into the hands of Major Raynor. Who then was the Tiger, Charles asked himself. Could it be that, after all, the man had positively held no mission that concerned him? It might be so: and that Charles had dreaded and hated him for nothing. The Tiger had left Grassmere now, as Charles happened to know. Jetty had said so the other day when he was at Eagles' Nest. To return sometime Jetty believed, for the gentleman had said as much to his sister Esther when leaving: he liked the lodgings and liked the place, and should no doubt visit them again. And so, Charles Raynor returned home, relieved on the whole, in spite of his ever-present trouble, and with a lively feeling of gratitude to Frank Raynor in his heart.